


Cold Season

by agentofvalue



Category: Agent Carter (TV)
Genre: Domestic, Domestic Bliss, Domestic Fluff, F/F, Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-28
Updated: 2016-12-28
Packaged: 2018-09-12 19:35:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,989
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9087181
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/agentofvalue/pseuds/agentofvalue
Summary: Angie has the flu.





	

Peggy bobbed on the balls of her feet to see above the crowd as she waited outside the theater. The stage door had finally opened and a small stream of actors was issuing forth. Most of the big names had already left after the performance, taking the gaggle of adoring fans with them. It was just Peggy waiting now, and she never cared about the big names anyway. 

Angie was the last person out of the door before it slammed close. She was pulling her coat on and her scarf was draped over her shoulders. Her fingers fumbled with the buttons on her tan peacoat. She seemed a little overwhelmed by the act of walking, buttoning, and getting herself through the door. The poor thing just looked exhausted. 

Angie had the flu, but, as the old adage went, the show must go on. Peggy didn’t argue too much when Angie had put on her coat; she understood the sentiment. Even though no one’s life was a risk if Angie stayed in bed, her work was still important to her. She’d worked so hard to get here and wouldn’t do anything to jeopardize it. Peggy could only do her best to make it easier. 

“Surprise,” Peggy said as Angie was about to walk right passed her. 

Angie’s head popped up. She stopped in her tracks, fingers still fidgeting with the button. Her heavy eyes went wide when she realized it was Peggy. 

“What—what are you doing here?” Angie asked. 

Peggy decided not to tease Angie about how obvious answer to her question was. Angie deserved a night off. 

“I’ve come to take you home,” Peggy said. “I thought you could use the company tonight.” 

She crumpled against Peggy, resting her forehead on Peggy’s shoulder. It wasn’t even a hug; it was more like a sigh of relief. Angie said nothing. 

Peggy laughed softly at just how pathetic her girlfriend was. She had put in a good effort, but all she needed now was to be tucked up in bed. 

“Don’t laugh at me,” Angie said. 

“I can’t help it, my love. You are adorable when you are helpless.” 

“I am not helpless,” she mumbled, not proving her point. 

"No, no, of course not," Peggy soothed. 

She reached over and lifted Angie's chin. The harsh street lighting did nothing to hide how pale Angie was. She blinked back at Peggy with red, watery eyes. Peggy put the back of her hand to Angie's forehead. It was noticeably hot even in the cold. 

"How are you feeling?" Peggy asked. 

"Not really any better." 

"Achy? Tired? You definitely still have a fever." 

Angie nodded. 

"Come along," Peggy said. She reached from Angie’s scarf. She looped it around Angie’s neck and tucked the end under the collar of her coat. "Let's go home." 

Turning, she put her arm around Angie's shoulders and guided her towards the busy avenue. 

She scanned upstream, looking for a taxi. She raised her free hand to signal to an unoccupied taxi, but the car zoomed passed. 

"Damn," Peggy said. 

”I can take the subway," Angie said. "It'll be fine." 

"Hush. I won’t hear of it.” 

Taxis were a treat for Angie. She wasn't making much money as a chorus girl, but she was on Broadway so she didn't mind. Even without the need to pay rent, she still had to be careful with her spending. There was no way Peggy would make her pay for the ride today, however. 

Someone stepped up behind them and whistled to the traffic. A taxi nearly a block away flashed its lights, signaling it would stop for them. 

Peggy eyed the newcomer with suspicion. He was tall, with dark features, and very handsome. He gave Peggy a winning smile when he caught her looking. 

"There you are," he said. 

Angie, who had not been paying much attention, started in Peggy's embrace and straightened at the sound of his voice. 

"Rex," she said. "I mean Mr. Mueller. How do you do?" 

Rex Mueller was a movie star and had descended from Hollywood to play the lead in the same show as Angie. Peggy knew the name without an introduction. He had quite the dubious reputation especially when it came to his young, pretty costars. 

Peggy released Angie in a smooth motion so as not to draw attention to the familiar way she had been holding her lover. She let go and transferred her handbag from one arm to the other as to seem as if that was the purpose of her changing positions. 

"Well, thank you, Miss Martinelli," he said. "And yourself?" 

"Actually, feeling a little under the weather."

" _'A little' was an understatement_ ," thought Peggy, but she said nothing. 

"Oh, what a shame. You could hardly tell with the performance you just gave." 

Peggy couldn't tell if Angie's flush was due to fever or embarrassment. 

"Oh, well, I guess, thanks." 

He laughed in an overly good-natured way. The cab finally reached them and as he stepped forward to open the door. 

"Here's your ride," he said. "I would say travel safely, but it looks like you are in good hands." 

"Yes, my roommate is taking me straight home. This is Miss Carter." 

Peggy extended her hand. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Mueller." 

"Likewise. Are you an actress too?" 

Peggy wanted to stamp her foot in impatience. Angie was practically swaying with the effort to stay upright and he was standing in their way. But it was important for Angie's career to stay in the good graces of the more famous actors she encountered, so she answered as politely as she could. 

"I merely work for the telephone company." 

"Ah, another shame—with a face like yours." He winked and Peggy was sure he expected her to swoon. 

"Such a charmer," she answered with a pretty smile; she could play a part even if she wasn't an actress. "Now, I'd like to get Miss Martinelli home." 

"Quite," he said. "Feel better, Miss Martinelli." 

"Thank you," Angie roused herself enough to say. 

Peggy guided her into the cab without even looking back at the famous actor. She gave their address to the driver, and he pulled away from the curb. 

"Is he always like that?" Peggy asked. 

"I've never talked to him before. Didn't know he even he knew I was in the company." 

"I don't like him paying attention to you. There are rumors about him that aren't very nice." 

"Nice? You are worried about him being nice?"

"I was being polite," Peggy said with a small sigh. "Everyone says he was rather cruel to his last girlfriend." 

"Everyone? Who's everyone?"

"I don't know. It's in the papers."

"Have you been reading the gossip column?" 

"Maybe," said Peggy. 

Angie laughed. "You have! The great Agent Car—"

"Angie!" 

Angie just laughed again. 

"I wanted to know what I could about him," Peggy continued. "Everyone was making such a fuss when he got the part. It's natural he would take notice of you." 

"Why?" 

Peggy blew out a frustrated sigh through her nose. "What do you mean why? Because you are the best in the chorus of course." 

"You do love me, don't you?" Angie said and at least had the good sense to lower her voice to nearly a whisper this time. They shouldn't be speaking of such things so openly. 

"Hush," Peggy said, but she was smiling because, as a matter of fact, she did love Angie. Loved her to pieces. 

"I won't hush—keep telling me how good I am." 

"You sing like a dream. You dazzle on stage." 

Peggy didn't say what she really wanted to say. If they had been alone, if Angie had been feeling herself. Peggy would have leaned closer so she could speak directly into Angie's ear. She would have told her all the ways how Angie marveled her on a daily basis, all the ways Angie made her grateful they were together, and all the ways Angie made her want to devour every inch of skin. Her hand would have moved up Angie's thigh. She would have kissed Angie's neck, her collarbone. 

Instead, Angie leaned her head on Peggy's shoulder and the gesture was as satisfying as all the wicked thoughts Peggy had been thinking. 

She waited until the driver was distracted trying to get through a crowded intersection and then smoothed back Angie's hair and kissed her forehead. It was still uncomfortably warm. 

"We'll be home soon," Peggy promised. 

At last, they reached their building. Angie let Peggy pay for the taxi with no complaint. She had practically fallen asleep during the second half of ride. Peggy led them up to the penthouse. 

"You need a hot shower and then bed. I'll bring you something to eat," Peggy said as they took off their coats. 

"I don't want anything." 

"Please, love, you need it. You need to keep your strength up. You have taxed yourself nearly to the end." 

Angie didn't put up any more fight; she was too tired. 

"Alright, fine," she said, already taking steps towards the back of the apartment where the bathroom was. 

"Plus, I worked too hard to cook for you to let it go to waste." 

Angie stopped and turned back. "You cooked?" 

"I cooked." 

"Well, I never." 

Peggy wasn't too offended. She was a decent enough cook—she could follow instructions at least—if she only took the time. She had had the day off today and had actually used it. She had even got in touch with Mr. Jarvis to get a recipe for chicken noodle soup. 

"Go," said Peggy with a wave of her hand. "Hot as you can stand." 

Angie moved off again, already reaching for the pins in her hair. Peggy headed to the kitchen to warm the soup she had spent the better part of the day making. It had gone cold while she had been out collecting Angie. 

Once the soup was heating up on the stove, she bustled into their bedroom. Angie kept her clothes and such in a room down the hall, but it was only for appearances. Peggy turned down the covers of the four-poster bed they shared and then fluffed the pillows. She went back to the kitchen to putter until she heard the shower stop running. 

In the bedroom, she found Angie sitting on a small settee at the foot of the bed. She was wrapped in a towel, but she was only doing a half-hearted job of holding it up. The smooth, pale skin of her back was exposed with the marks from her underclothes pressed into her skin. She looked like a modern renaissance painting. 

Peggy caught herself in those thoughts. Well, she must love his woman if she was seeing those things even when Angie had the flu. She smiled to herself. 

She passed Angie her pajamas without comment. Back in the kitchen, she filled a large mug with the soup and brought it to Angie. She perched on the edge of the bed to carefully watch Angie finish every bite. 

"I do, you know?" Peggy said when the mug was empty. 

"Do you what?" Angie said. She was settling back against the pillows. 

"Love you. I know I'm a bit clumsy about saying it, but I do." 

"Your actions are loud enough, English. Who else would put up with me like this? I mean, look at me." 

"I actually thought you looked like a painting when you were all wrapped up in your towel." 

"Picasso?" 

"Vermeer." 

"Get out of town." She flopped over onto to side, rolling away from where Peggy sat on the edge of the bed. 

"You always look stunning to me." 

"Stop it." Angie closed her eyes. 

"Never, darling." Peggy leaned over and kissed Angie's shoulder. She saw Angie smile. "Sleep well." 

"Thanks. I love you too." 

Peggy smiled again as she left Angie to her much-needed rest.


End file.
